The Orphan Factory (The Orphan Trilogy, #2) Read Online Free Page B

Hilda observing him critically.
    Doctor Pedemont began handing out the phials from his tray. Each contained the mysterious substance Kentbridge had referred to as White Gold Powder.
    Seventeen was the first recipient. Sitting upright in bed, she glared at Nine whose bed was directly in front of hers. She was clearly still smarting from losing to him in the gym earlier.  Her cold, blue eyes reflected the resentment she felt.
    Nine noted Seventeen didn’t even blink as she poured the White Gold Powder under her tongue. As was custom, Seventeen let the salty substance dissolve under her tongue so that the product entered her bloodstream sublingually. The other orphans took the contents of their phials in the same manner as the doctor continued his rounds. The nurse followed him, handing out a set of headphones to each orphan.
    Nine was the last to receive his phial. He took the contents in the same fashion as the others, then studied Nurse Hilda as she handed out the last of the headphones to Ten and himself. As always, her severe, angular face was devoid of emotion. Donning his set of headphones, Nine thought just how much the middle-aged nurse resembled a man.
    And an ugly man at that .
    Aware she was being observed, Nurse Hilda wheeled her trolley from the room. Doctor Pedemont followed, pausing only to switch off the lights as he left.
    While any outside observer would have considered the last few minutes highly unusual, it was totally normal for the residents of the Pedemont Orphanage. It was a routine the orphans and their minders had repeated daily, without fail and without question, for the past ten years.
    As the orphans drifted off to sleep, foreign languages played through their headphones. It was the start of another night of hypnopædia, or sleep learning, for them.
    Nine thought of Helen as he drifted off. Even the languages that echoed in his brain couldn’t prevent the image of her beautiful face filling his mind’s eye. 
     

 
    4
    A shot rang out, shattering the silence of Montana’s Custer National Park. Its echo reverberated off the surrounding, snow-capped mountains, growing fainter as the seconds passed.
    Special Agent Kenbridge lowered his rifle and peered through the mist. His victim lay, unseen, in the long grass of a forest clearing one hundred yards upwind. Directly behind Kentbridge, lying prone on the damp ground like him, the twenty three orphans stared as one at the distant clearing.
    The agent stood up, shouldered his rifle, and motioned to his young charges to follow him. He led them at a fast jog toward the clearing. As always, Nine and Seventeen followed close behind their master, vying to be first on the scene. 
    As they neared the clearing, the results of Kentbridge’s handiwork became clear: a wounded deer lay on her side, trembling. White foam covered her nose and mouth, turning pink then red as her internal organs reacted to the trauma caused by the bullet that had pierced her lungs. The dying animal could only watch as the children approached her.
    Kentbridge hung back. He had planned this, altering his aim infinitesimally before squeezing the trigger so as not to kill the deer immediately. Now he wanted the orphans to observe the death of a living creature up close and personal.
    Nine was closest to the deer. Her big brown eyes, wild and tortured, focused on him and held his gaze. Nine physically recoiled. He looked around, searching for Kentbridge and wanting him to end the animal’s misery. The agent ignored him.
    Alongside Nine, Seventeen was bursting with excitement. She’d never seen anything bigger than a frog die a slow death before, and she found she was enjoying the experience. Nine thought he heard her snigger, but couldn’t be sure.
    “Alright, people,” Kentbridge announced as he pushed through the orphans’ ranks, “you have just witnessed the result of a poor shot.” Standing between them and the deer, he added, “That was what we call a non-kill shot.”